


Solace

by Willow_Warbler



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Body Worship?, Death Stranding Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, M/M, Massage, Pining, Whump, sam is a neurotic prey animal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23926546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_Warbler/pseuds/Willow_Warbler
Summary: Deadman has been a coroner, a doctor, and now he can add physical theraphist to his resume.(Sam pulls a muscle and Deadman helps him feel better)
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Deadman
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

> OH BOY, this has been in my drafts since about december, and I've finaly finished it. Takes place during the "tomorrow is in your hands" chapter, so Sam still works as a porter, Lou is still in her pod, but the extinction has been avoided for now. English is not my first language, so apologies for any strange wording or sentence structure. Teen for language and some suggestive descriptions.

The distant hum of a reverse trike took Deadman out of his studies, making his heart skip a beat. 

Sam. It had to be him.

He ran through his lab, almost tripping over a small metal table, to a screen that gave him a look out of every security camera on the grid. The image wasn’t perfect, but he was almost certain that the pixelated figure parking the trike on the private room platform was Sam.

\- Scanning ID. Welcome, Sam Porter Bridges.- The terminal’s voice carried through the facility, clear, if slightly muffled by the walls. 

Deadman felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, feeling an irresistible need to go out and greet his friend. Since the Stranding was avoided, him and Sam started to spent more and more time together; Deadman would come co greet Sam when he came back from a delivery, or chatted him up when he came out of his private room in the morning and was picking up his first order in that day. It was far from sharing their innermost feelings or thoughts, mostly just small talk or things regarding Lou, but Deadman was just giddy about being able to spend even a minute with Sam, and Sam didn’t seem to be interesed in opening up to, well, anybody. Deadman couldn’t blame him; he had no clue about what exactly happened on Amelie’s Beach, and assumed he never will, but no event with such magnitude could ever be easy to open up about.

Deadman’s footsteps echoed through the empty hall of the delivery center of Capital Knot City. Sam’s figure was hunched over the conveyor belt, lying the battered cargo cases down to be processed further. 

\- Hi Sam!- Deadman called out cheerfully.

Sam turned his head towards the source of the sound and stood up straight, squeezing his eyes shut, his face twisting into a grimace. Deadman flinched.

\- Hi Deadman.- Sam rasped, smiling weakly.

\- Are you okay? Did you get hurt along the way?- Deadman was doing his best to not extend his arm and touch Sam’s shoulder. He knew his gesture was likely unwanted.

\- Nah, I’m fine. Just the usual.- Sam tried to cut the topic.

It’s true, Sam frequently complained about various pains and general soreness, but he always described it to Deadman as general fatigue, and not the kind of sharp pain associated with injuries. It was concerning, but expected from someone living such a physically taxing lifestyle. Deadman didn’t mean to pry, so he decided to just keep observing Sam.  
They went to the platform, where Sam has parked his trike before, and descended down to the living quaters for porters. 

\- So… how did the delivery go?- Deadman asked, trying to change the topic.

\- Good, nothing too exciting.- Sam shrugged, and immidietly hissed quietly, likely hoping that Deadman wouldn’t hear him.- Just some essentials for guys in the distribution center. The BTs were unusually agressive, but Lou pulled us through.- He gently pat the pod strapped to his chest, with a gentle smile and a fond look in his eyes. It was impossible not to smile at him.

The elevator arrived at their floor, and they stepped out into the glaring, sterile white corridor, door shutting behind them, the trike going furter down for maintenence in the garage. Sam went first, quickly glancing at door after door to see if it was occupied by another porter. Deadman followed, sizing up Sam’s frame: his moves were rigid, his upper body slouched in tiredness. Finally, they found a room without a surname above it and door open, indicating it was up for grabs. Sam went in, sensors scanning the strand hanging at his side, the words „S. Porter Bridges” appearing above the doorframe outside. 

\- Sam? Can I check on your BB? I don’t need to take her anywhere, and it will only take me a minute or two.- Deadman asked; In reality, he just wanted to spend a few more minutes with Sam. He knew Lou was doing fine, well, as fine as a BB in the line of duty for so long could be, to be honest. 

\- Sure, just make it quick.- Sam said in a hushed tone, plugging the pod to the port on the wall.

It didn’t turn translucent up like it should, but Sam didn’t seem to notice. Deadman gently knocked on the darkened glass, which lit up under his touch. Lou didn’t react, still suspended in the fluid, back turned towards Deadman. He tapped the glass again, and she lifted her head slightly, as if he woke her up. She turned her gaze towards the source of the sound, opening her eye groggily. 

\- Oh, I’m sorry.- Deadman stammered, his tone hushed.- I didn’t mean to wake you.

At the sound of his voice, Lou opened her eyes wide, clearly awake, and turned towards him, swimming closer to him. She pressed her tiny palm against the glass, in the same place where Deadman was pressing the tip of his finger. She was looking straight into his eyes, smiling. Deadman was so ashamed he used to think of BBs as mere tools, and that shame hit especially hard whenever he interacted with Lou. She was so clearly alive and thinking, he could see that even in just her eyes, always so bright and curious. Deadman didn’t want her to stay in this awful pod for the rest of her life, she deserved so much more. He was expecting a termination note for her any day now, has been since Sam started to work with her. Sam seemed to ignore the whole situation, or at least pretended to, acting as if Lou was all right. 

Deadman was actually working on a plan for Sam and Lou, for them to live free, away from the control and bad memories of Bridges. He knew Sam will likely bolt with Lou the second he’ll have the opportunity, and he wanted to aid them as much as he could. He knew he will likely never see them again, but their lifes came before his wants. 

A sharp groan took him out of his thoughts.

\- Ah fuck…!- Sam hissed, arching his back in pain. 

Now that the top of his uniform was off, leaving Sam only in his tanktop, Deadman could better see that Sam’s left arm was unnaturally pulled backwards, shoulder hitched higher than his right one. He couldn’t hide his condition anymore.

\- Sam? Please tell me what’s wrong.- Deadman pleaded.- I’m a doctor, I’m sure I can help you in some way! 

\- It’s…- Sam trailed off, knowing he can’t hide or ignore his pain anymore, but still having issues with talking about it.- I think I pulled a muscle. I was resting out in the open during a delivery yesterday, thinking it was safe, but these MULE assholes snuck up on me. I’ve heard their fucking truck, so I jumped to my feet to run, one of the straps must’ve pulled my arm back.

\- Have you tried anything to ease the pain?

\- Of course I did.- Sam huffed.- I spent like an hour in the shower today, I must’ve used up hot water of the entire facility. I tried to sleep it off, but I was just tossing around the whole night. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, the only thing I can hope for it to pass, but it just… doesn’t.

Deadman felt his throat tighten. Injuries like that weren’t life threatning, but they slowly sapped up any vitality and joy from a person. He racked his brain for any idea that could help Sam. Rest was advised, but the pain was so severe he couldn’t fall asleep yesterday. Quelling the pain should be their priority, but there was a problem: the painkillers for the reserve from Port Knot were only picked up yesterday, and wont be deliverd untill the next morning at the earliest, and even then there was no guarantee they’ll get there in one piece. Sam had a good idea to try and warm up the muscle, but heat   
was not enough; compression was also necessary for it to work. 

Compression.

Heat.

That’s it!

\- I can give you a massage!- Deadman exclamed 

And he immidietly regretted it, when he saw that Sam flinched away, staring at him like a limping deer at a human trying to help. It was so easy to forget that, even after they became closer, Sam was still aphenphosomphobic. His skin didn’t react to touch by breaking out in rashes anymore, likely due to Amelie’s Beach being sealed off, but the fear still lingered in Sam’s mind. 

\- I-I’m sorry Sam…- Deadman tried to avoid Sam’s gaze- I spoke too fast, forget I said anythi-

\- Do you think it would help?

Deadman’s eyes widened.

\- Well, compression and heat should help ease the pain, and stimulating circulation should loosen up the tissue, so your arm should come back to a more comfortable position, so… yes.

\- Then I want to try.- Sam said, determined, staring straight into Deadman’s eyes.

\- Are you sure?- Deadman asked, his face twisting in an uncertain grimace.- I don’t want to push you to do something you don’t feel comfortable with, I’m sure we can figure out something else-

\- No. I’m sure.- Sam confirmed, voice unwavering.

Even though he sounded sure, there was still a hint of anxiety deep in his eyes. He must’ve really been desperate to feel better to agree to something so invasive. 

\- All right then…- Deadman trailed off.- Take off your shirt and lie down on the bed, I need to fetch something from the medicine storage very quick. I’ll be back in a moment!- He left the room in a hurry, leaving staring Sam behind the shutting door.

Deadman leaned on the cool corridor wall and sighed. Did Sam really agreed for something that involved extensive touch? From him, notherless? His heart beat slightly faster, and he shook his head. Sam was only agreeing to this because he’s in pain and you’re his doctor. There’s nothing deeper in this.

No matter how badly you want it to be.  
***  
Deadman was standing outside Sam’s room, fiddling with a small package of shea butter. He sighed, trying to gather some courage and steady his nerves. He left his leather gloves in his lab, and was rubbing his palms together to warm them up. Being made of cadavers usually didn’t cause too many physical problems, strangely enough, but the circulation in his palms was one of them. He stepped through the door which opened with a hiss. Sam, now lying topless on his bed, lifted his head towards the noise. His eyes were bleary, Deadman wasn’t sure if it was due to pain, tiredness or something else. 

\- Maybe I’ll dim the light slightly? S-so you can relax more easily!- Deadman stuttered, realising it might sound… suggestive. He offered it partially for Sam’s sake, but he would lie if he said it wouldn’t help him keep his feelings at bay.

\- Sure.- Sam answered, brief as always.

Deadman turned the dial on the wall, making the room darker. He came closer to Sam’s cot, door closing behind him. There was no turning back now. He unscrewed the cap of the packaging and started to coat his palms with shea butter. This was it.

Up close, Deadman could see much better what was causing Sam so much pain; between his shoulderblade and spine, there was a bruised, bulging muscle that twitched irregularly. 

\- All right Sam, I’m ready to start.- Deadman stretched his fingers, palms hovering close enough to Sam’s back to feel the heat radiating off of him.- Ready?

\- Do it.

Deadman lowered his hands onto Sam’s waist. Sam tensed up, hairs on his back rising in reaction to touch, and he tried to press himself flat on the bed, instinctly trying to get away. 

\- Everything all right?- Deadman asked. He knew Sam acted like this due to irrational, primal fear and likely faster than he could think of it rationally, but he still prefered to make sure. He didn’t want to overwhelm him.

\- Yes.- Sam’s voice was muffled, but understandable.- Keep going.

Deadman noticed that Sam’s skin didn’t start to redden under his touch, which was expected, but it still brought him satisfaction and hell, even made him feel somewhat special. Sam seemed to relax at least slightly, the hairs on his back weren’t bristled anymore and he didn’t push himself away. He still seemed ready to flee at any moment, but he seemed more cautious than outright panicked.   
Deadman decided that it would be good to massage Sam’s entire back, to stimulate the bloodflow and make sure that he’s not going to pull another muscle in a few days. An uglier, less professional part of him wanted to indulge in the ability to touch Sam, see his body up close, give him comfort and be the only person who Sam was comfortable enough with to allow extensive physical contact in years. Still, he respected Sam and their relationship and wouldn’t let his wants get in the way of Sam’s well being and comfort.

One word, and he would stop. 

For now, he placed his palms on the sides of his lower back and stretched the muscles supporting his spine with his thumbs. Sam didn’t say anything or react in any way, positive or negative. His back was tense, but it seemed so moreso because of his work as a porter, and not from stress.

\- Have you ever gotten a massage before?- Deadman asked, voice hushed. He didn’t mean to keep Sam up, but he was a chatty person, so the complete silence felt a bit unnatural. That, and he was honestly curious.

\- No, never.- He murmured. 

Deadman couldn’t say he expected a different answer, both because he knew Sam and due to the fact that his back was as hard as rough wood. Sam seemed to relax with surprising ease, no longer as cautious as before. Deadman felt embolded by this, and decided to indulge himself a little bit. He lifted one of his hands and placed his thumb on Sam’s axis, and slowly dragged it down his spine, relishing each small bump of the vertibrae. 

\- Well Sam, life of a porter must agree with you.- Deadman whispered, his voice filled with adoration.- Your spine is remarkably straight.

Sam didn’t answer, Deadman wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t hear or didn’t care. He said it mostly to himself anyway. He always knew how much work Sam put in to realise Amelie’s dream, and he knew how much strain he had to put on his body. He barely slept, walked miles through rain, snowstorms and rivers, fell off cliffs, got electrocuted and fought tooth and nail for everyone but himself. He knew no matter how much care he gives Sam now, it won’t take off the toll of years of hard physical work. He still wanted to give Sam a moment of tranquility and freedom from pain.   
By that point in time, Sam could probably use a full body deep tissue massage. His legs had to be in an even worse state than his back. Someone should take care of those muscular calves, thick, strong thighs and-

Deadman shook his head.

No.

Stop it.

You’re lucky enough Sam allowed you for that much. Focus on the task at hand. Deadman felt his cheeks cool off. 

Sam’s lower back seemed sufficiently warmed up, so Deadman moved to his shoulders. That pulled muscle still glared at him, Purple and spazzing, but he decided to leave it for the last. He pressed his thumbs on pressure points on the sides of the axis, gently rubbing back and forth. He must’ve found a sweet spot, because Sam pushed himself against Deadman’s fingers, making a sighing groan that sounded suspiciously like a moan. 

Deadman was lucky Sam wasn’t looking at him, because he had to turn his head away from embarassment. He had to admit, it was somewhat amusing how little was needed for Sam to drop his usual facade. Who knew the stoic, detached Great Deliverer would act like a tomcat if given a simple back massage.   
Deadman’s eyes were drawn to the awful red marks on Sam’s shoulders. He decided to leave his shoulders alone, to not cause him even more pain. He should bring up cushoning the backpack straps at the next Bridges meeting, he was sure other medical professionals on the board would agree with him.   
It was time to finally Focus on the pulled muscle. Deadman decided to take it slow, gently lying his warm hand on the irritated area. Sam tensed up, balling his fist.

\- I know, I know.- Deadman coaxed.- It will hurt for a while, but I promise you’ll feel much better.

Deadman started to press down on the bruise, and moved his hand in small circles. His hand was splayed right next to the hand stencils peppering Sam’s body. He felt a sudden urge to press his palm agains one of them, to compare their sizes, but he didn’t know is Sam would be comfortable with him focusing on them so much. He wasn’t sure what Sam thought about them; were they a grim reminder of every death he’d rather get rid of? Was he proud of them and cosidered them body art., in similar vein to the tattoos on his arms? Or were they completely neutral? He had no clue.   
He should ask him next time. 

The muscle seemed to flatten and stopped twitching. Sam’s shoulder also lied flat against the cot. It seemed like his work here was done.

\- All right Sam, how do you feel?- Deadman whispered, leaning closer to Sam’s face.

To his suprise, Sam fell asleep. His head was slightly tilted, eyes closed, lips parted slightly. 

He was beautiful. 

Deadman never felt such overwhelming feeling of love and adoration. He wanted nothing more than to kiss him. With the last ounce of restraint he stood up, and decided to leave. He stood in front of the door, giving Sam a last, longing look. He was smiling, even though it was tinged with sadness. He left the room and headed towards his lab.

He should bring Sam a bottle of menthol cream for his shoulders.


End file.
